


Good Kid

by objectlesson



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson/pseuds/objectlesson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riker wants to give Wesley everything. It’s what a good father would do, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Kid

**Author's Note:**

> I...I....I don’t even know. Um. This is the weirdest, crackiest pairing I’ve ever dabbled in it. There is virtually no subtext whatsoever to support it, and Riker’s in this thirties and Wesley is seventeen. I don’t know where this came from. I guess I needed a TNG ship, and this was the one I picked up and ran with. I think it’s as hot as it is repulsive, so we’ll see what other people think. I don’t own them, and it’s all lies.

Wesley was bent over Riker’s desk chair, his uniform in pieces around the room. The lights were low so his skin looked silver in its sheen of sweat, his hair worried by rough hands so insistently that it still stood up in front. Riker couldn’t see Wesley’s hair, though, just the ladder of his spine and the muscles surrounding it tense in the flickering light, and of course, his ass round and tight and fuckable. Riker licked his own thumb, and dragged it down Wesley’ crack. 

A tiny, humiliated sound escaped Wesley, something involuntary. Riker thumbed Wesley apart, sliding into willing heat which constricted around him, pulling him in. “You want me here, ensign?” He asked in a rumble, his mouth dry with want, heat in his stomach. 

“Yes commander,” Wesley said, all breath. He adjusted his stance, parting his thighs carefully to spread himself apart further. His body felt like it was sucking Riker in, like he didn’t just want him there, he _needed_ him there. Riker groaned, pressing the full weight of his hips against the slender youth’s ass, pushing him flush against the chair. 

Riker withdrew his hand, spat into his palm, and rubbed his spit into Wesley’s ass, feeling him open up. His index and middle finger replaced his thumb, sliding in easily because Wesley was fucking _made_ for this, he took cock like it was his job. “Can’t wait to see you split open on me,” Riker huffed, his breath coming out of him uneven and husky, because even though he was in control of this, it didn’t mean he was in control of _himself._

Wesley made another sound, animal, desperate, young. “Please, commander.” 

“I’m gonna make you ride me. Gonna make you come on my chest, gonna make you lick it off.” He rubbed his cock, which was straining against the seam of his regulation slacks, in graceless thrusts against the back of Wesley’s smooth thigh. He could feel Wesley’s insides tightening up around his fingers, relaxing and gathering like a fist. He mauled up Wesley’s back with his free hand, raking his nails over shoulder blades, down over the sharp, youthful jut of a hip bone. Around in front of him, where he could close hot fingers over hotter flesh, the silk-soft over steel of Wesley’s leaking dick. 

He slipped his fingers through precum, then found the satin inside of Wesley’s mouth. He had the fucking prettiest mouth, pink and soft around knuckles, around Riker. He sucked in ernest, backing his ass up against Riker’s other hand. 

“You’re so eager,” Riker almost laughed, dropping his head to Wesley’s back, kissing the curve of his ribcage. His skin erupted in gooseflesh under the scrape of Riker’s beard, and Riker tongued it into smoothness, mouth hot and wet and open across salty skin. “You want me to fuck you so bad.” 

Wesley stayed silent, just spread his quaking legs to accommodate the width of Riker’s body. Riker bit him wherever he could reach, desperate to hold some part of his body between his teeth while he freed up his hands to unbuckle his pants, pulling his dick out and aligning the head of it at Wesley’s hole, where he was wet and ready and hungry and open. 

He sank into him slowly, watching with quiet, awed breath as his body disappeared inch by inch inside of Wesley’s. Once he was almost entirely encased in his ass, he threaded his right hand in Wesey’s mussed hair and pulled his head back, extending his throat so it caught the light, making sure he saw his young face screwed up in bliss and agony when he thrust those final inches in, his balls slapping against taut ass cheeks as he buried himself to the hilt. 

Air hissed out of Riker’s teeth, and Wesley moaned a raw moan, something from deep inside of him. He always made this sound when he was being filled; somewhere between a scream and a sob, like it hurt but it was all he wanted. Riker decided it was the sound Wesley made when he felt complete, and it was the sound Riker lived to hear. 

He pulled out and slid back in a few times in rapid succession, just to loosen the kid up, remind him what it felt like to be really fucked into the ground, fucked into blackout and blood and back again. Riker laid himself across Wesley’s spine and wrapped his left arm around that narrow chest, bringing their bodies flush and sliding together with the sweat of feeling too good. “How does that feel?” He whispered into Wesley’s ear, mouth damp. 

“Perfect,” Wesley choked. “Commander.” 

“Ah, Perfect,” Riker said, punctuating his words with subtle, deep snaps of his hips. “You need this, don’t you, ensign?” 

“Yes,” Wesley panted, arching his back to meet Riker’s thrusts. 

“You need a man in your life, a role model. To show you things,” Riker explained, dragging his palm across Wesley’s stomach, where the downiest of hairs were just starting to grow under his naval, getting matted down with sweat. “How to flirt with girls,” Riker licked the shell of his ear, lengthened his strokes so he was almost leaving Wesley’s body before pounding back again, so hard their bodies snapped forward together with resounding smacks. “How to fuck.” 

Wesley cried out, his eyes opening in a scared kind of darkness to seek out Riker’s for a moment, these flashes bright and unexpected. Riker tilted the kid’s neck up, desperately, and caught his lips, kissing him deep and filthy and with tongue. Wesley’s kisses always belied his age, Riker thought, they were too messy, too wanting, too terrified to be the kisses of anyone but a seventeen year old. It made Riker’s stomach twist up in a sick combination of hunger and fierce protectiveness, and he thought crazy thoughts when they were kissing, things like _this is mine and I can’t let anyone else hurt him like I hurt him and he’s too young for this with anyone but me._ He bit into Wesley’s lower lip, fumbled for his dick with clumsy a clumsy hand. 

“You feel so fucking perfect pushing against my cock like that,” he growled into the remnants of the kiss as he broke it, loving the way Wesley was slamming himself into the weight of his every thrust. He jerked him off, loving the tightness and closeness of his teenage cock already twitching, already leaking and close to exploding in his hand. “I want you to come while I fuck you. I want to feel your ass hold me inside you,” Riker hissed into Wesley’s neck, strangling on the humidity, his heavy body sliding against the much smaller, more slender frame beneath him.

Wesley came easily, shouting a quick, high bark as he shot his load into Riker’s hand and across his desk. Riker rode his ass while his taut little body convulsed under him, talking a stream of unintelligible wanting into his ear, fisting his still twitching cock until he felt his balls start to tighten. “I’m gonna fill you up again,” he managed to choke out among the nonsense, and like always, Wesley made more noise when Riker came than when he did. 

Riker allowed his full weight to crush Wesley for a few moments, still pumping seed deep into him, hands roving mindlessly over the bones and muscles under him, eyes closed and still witnessing stars. 

“You okay, Wes?” he murrmured, arms shaking as he used the chair they were bent over to push himself up. Wesley stayed splayed there, still silver, still shining and wet and debauched with bite makes on his shoulder and Riker’s dick in his ass. 

“Yes, Commander,” he finally mumbled, reaching behind him with a tremulous hand to feel the slick, sticky place their bodies were still joined. 

“Like that?” Riker grinned, rubbing his own hand through Wesley’s hair. 

“Yes, Commander,” Wesley repeated, eyes opening hazily, lids at half mast. He was grinning too, though in messy way, like he was trying to subdue it and failing. It was the grin of a kid in love but afraid to be in love, feeling too much and aware he was feeling too much, which made Riker feel than pang of combined paternalism and wanting, again. 

“You’re a good kid,” Riker added, something tightening in his throat, coiling and uncoiling the way desire does. He was not sure what he meant, but he meant it. He slid out of Wesley’s body, pressed a kiss to the lowest dip in his back, felt longing when Wesley’s eyes slid shut again like he was trying to preserve the sensation of Riker’s lips against his skin. 

He wanted to do something. He wanted to do everything. He wanted to clean the come up off of Wesley’s flushed thighs, he wanted to let Wesley stay over and sleep beside him in the bed he never let anyone stay over because once the sex was over he usually wished it hadn’t happened. He wanted to give him something, something expensive. He wanted to take him to ball games, and teach him to fish, and be everything there was to be to a kid when you’re a man and that kid wants a man in all the ways he knows how and some he doesn’t. 

Riker sighed, pushed his fingers through Wesley’s hair again. “Thank you,” he said, bending to gather Wesley’s discarded uniform, body aching with wanting all the things he couldn’t give. “I’ll see you on the bridge tomorrow, Ensign.” He gave Wesley his uniform. 

There was a moment of silence, where one could read sadness within the uncertainty if he chose to. Then, “Yes commander.”


End file.
